Life on the B list

There's a fascinating article in the current issue of Psychology Today—unfortunately unavailable online, about the theory that humans have a romantic A list and a romantic B list—meaning, people will often hold hang onto a person who's not "the one," just in case partner A doesn't work out. It's sort of like nature's backup plan. This includes the ex who may call or e-mail you every few months, even though he's married, the former flame who doesn't mention he's married until you specifically ask him. Or, in my case, this includes The Professor (not to be confused, in any way, shape, or form with The Medievalist—a situation which I'm still kicking myself over)

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As a recap, the Professor and I have known each other for 3 years as friends with benefits. And I saw him the other night. And in some ways, it was so, so good, and I like him so, so much. I feel like I can trust him in a way I can't with other guys—he's seen my freakouts, he knows my quirks, and I feel comfortable sharing things with him.

Like, after we had s-e-x, we were lying there, and I said, "I just want to move to the Pacific Northwest and have babies!" And then after, we locked eyes with each other, and, yes, we can blame part of that outburst on oxytocin, phenylethylamine, and other fun, post-sex chemicals, we can blame part of that on the fact that in the past week, my brother and his wife had their first baby and my best friend from high school announced that she was expecting, but the rest of that? As I watched the panic flash across his eyes, I added, "just kidding!" And that's mostly true. I certainly do not want and am not ready for children anytime soon, and I'm VERY careful about that. But, I think a lot of that is just that, in the dating wilderness of New York City, he's as close to a constant as I've had in the past couple years.

But. Anyway. I'm definitely his B-girl, and, to be honest, I think he's mine. Or, even different than that, I think we're both exclusively friends with benefits with each other. But I think that having him there (only 12 blocks away from where I live) is precluding me from REALLY devoting myself to searching for an A-lister. And everyone deserves that!

So, what do you think of the cassette tape theory of romance? Have you ever been a B-Lister or kept a B-Lister?

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